Mistakes That Last A Lifetime
by dean-supernatural-sam
Summary: Hunting a wendigo, John makes a mistake that takes an innocent life. But what revenge will come from this? He soon finds out that some things are worse than death. Flashback. Teen!chesters. Wont be able to update until end of year - school commitments
1. Chapter 1

Hey all! This here's my latest story, and there's a few things i'd like to mention before ya'll get reading.

1. This story is set back when the boys were kids, and in the first chapter i've used a wendigo as the creature being hunted. You'll have to have an open mind, and pretend that the episode Wendigo never happened, otherwise this will not make sense with the actual SN storyline. A wendigo was the best option for this story to work.

2. I'm extremely busy at the moment, so updates are not always possible all the time. I'm hoping to give ya'll one a week at least, but please dont lose faith in me, because i WILL finish this story. i currently have 10 chapters written.

3. Please leave feedback and comments - strictly NO flames! I dont want to hear how bad it is. If you dont like it, dont read it, and dont even bother to comment.

I hope you all like it.

Nikki

**Mistakes That Last A Lifetime**

**Chapter One**

_1993_

_Aspen, Colorado_

It moved deeper into the silent wilderness of the woods, shooting faster than the eye could see, it's footsteps a mere patter on the leaves that had glided their way to the ground. It could smell the prey; could smell the blood that pumped through their veins, the bones that made them so strong, that held their shape. But it could also smell the danger the prey posed upon him. They weren't weak and pathetic backpackers like the other meals had been; they were there for a purpose. They were there for him. He had to move carefully. The prey's backs were turned, and he moved past them quickly, ensuring the rustle of leaves and snapping of twigs would be the only proof of his presence. The prey wouldn't win.

The moon shone meekly through the slight gap the thick clouds allowed, that blanketed over the stars viciously, and the air was fresh and moist. John Winchester looked at the sky wearily as thunder rolled across the air above him, the loud rumbles echoing in his ears. He re-adjusted his grip on the flare gun he held, whirling around suddenly as the rustle of leaves behind him seeped into his ears. He glanced over to his 14 year old son Dean, who had also heard the rustle and had his flare gun aimed and ready.

'Easy son,' muttered John.

Dean's grip relaxed instantly.

'Yes sir.'

'You see it Tom?' John called back to his colleague, who with his 15 year old son Mike, was keeping an eye out on the other side of the woods.

'No, I can't see him,' replied Tom. 'But he's around…I can feel him watching us.'

'This is one nasty Wendigo,' Mike added.

Spotting movement out of the corner of his eye, John turned quickly and fired to his left, reloading his gun instantly when he missed.

'Damn things,' he muttered. 'Why do they have to be so fast?'

A female scream hit their ears, followed by a flash of movement in the opposite direction.

'What the hell?' exclaimed Tom. 'Who comes into these woods at this time of night!'

'Help me! Help me please!' came the woman's desperate pleading somewhere from the thick brush. 'Before it comes back! Please help me!'

'Dean, Mike, I want you to find that woman,' ordered John. 'Go now! We'll go after the Wendigo; I saw it heading in the opposite direction.'

Both boys nodded their heads and took off at a run towards the still screaming woman. Tom and John jogged off in the opposite direction, in search of the Wendigo. They had barely gone 10 metres before a loud shout erupted from Dean, followed by the firing of a flare gun. It had been a trap.

'Wendigos must be able to mimic voices!' shouted John.

Immediately the two fathers ran in the direction of the shout. They were completely unprepared for what they saw.

The Wendigo had an unconscious Mike slung over his shoulder, and was creeping closer to Dean, who was slumped against a tree, a large gash on his forehead, his flare gun lying metres away.

'Hey!' yelled John, his gun aimed. The Wendigo paused, staring at the hunters, as if daring them to take a shot without hitting Mike.

'John, no. NO!' yelled Tom. 'Don't even think about it! That's my boy…you'll hit him!'

'What else am I supposed to do?' yelled back John. 'He's got Mike anyway and he's gunna get Dean if I don't stop him! What's the point in both of them being taken!'

John took aim, and as his finger yanked the trigger, he was tackled by a hysterical Tom.

'NO! JOHN NO!'

But it was too late. The flare shot sharply through the air, piercing the Wendigo. The flames engulfed the creature immediately, and Mike, spreading down to the dry leaves on the forest floor. Dean weakly scrambled over to his father, who put his arms around him protectively and began to drag him away from the fire.

'MIKE!' screamed Tom frantically. He turned angrily to John. 'HOW COULD YOU! HOW COULD YOU JOHN! THAT'S MY SON!'

The forest was on fire, the flames licking up the trees fiercely. Tom began to run to where he had last seen Mike.

'Tom! ARE YOU STUPID?' bellowed John. 'It's too late! Don't risk your life!'

'I hate you John Winchester! I HATE YOU!' screamed Tom, his eyes filled with coldness. 'You killed my son!'

He disappeared behind the flames. And as the rain slowly began to trickle from the sky, that was the last time John Winchester saw Tom.

_2 years later_

_Atlanta, Georgia_

John awoke with a strangled cry, the perspiration from his forehead trickling down his face, landing with a resounding plop on the bed sheets. Two years. Two whole freaking years. His breathing still laboured, he glanced at his clock. 1.53am. The exact date and time, he realised, of Mike's death and Tom's disappearance. And the night still haunted him. His friend, his best friend, and those hate filled final words that had been sent his way. He'd make a mistake. To save his son. A horrible mistake that yanked away another life, another son, another loved one. He buried his head in his hands, rubbing his sleep deprived eyes and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He'd never get to sleep now. Sighing at the effects of guilt he pulled himself from his motel room bed. He treaded carefully across the room, taking care not to wake his sons, who lay sleeping in the double bed beside his own.

Filling a glass with water, he watched Dean and Sam resting, thinking about the innocence they held whilst they slept. He sighed again; this time at life and its unfairness, before downing the water in one go.

'Dad?'

The small voice momentarily startled him, but he relaxed almost instantly when his eyes fell on his youngest.

'Sammy? What are you doing up,' asked John quietly.

'I couldn't sleep,' replied the 12 year old, sliding carefully from the bed. 'Looks like you can't either.'

'True,' replied John. 'But I don't have school tomorrow.'

Sam just rolled his eyes.

'I'm gunna go get some coffee,' said John. 'I expect you to be in bed by the time I get-'

He was cut short as his phone's shrill ring tone pierced the air. Frowning, he picked it up from the bench, glancing at the caller ID.

'Winchester,' he finally answered. Immediately his face fell. Sam watched, his father's serious expression concerning him as he listened intently to the caller.

'NOW?' spluttered John incredulously. 'I'm already in the middle of a werewolf deal-' He paused. 'I'm in Atlanta.' John ran his hand through his short hair in frustration. 'Yep. I can be there in 3 hours.' Another pause. 'No I won't bring the kids.'

Sam's face fell immediately, and John avoided making eye contact so he wouldn't see the disappointment etched into Sam's face. After a short amount of conversation, he hung up his phone and began to pack up his possessions. Not a word was spoken, Sam's gaze never leaving his father. When John had finished, he moved over to Dean's bed, gently shaking the boy.

'Dean,' he said in a loud clear voice. Dean's eyes flew open, his hand instinctively reaching under his pillow for his knife. He relaxed when he saw his dad.

'Dad?' he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

'Look Dean, Bobby called. He needs me for an urgent gig, and I have to leave now. I want you to stay here and take care of your brother,' ordered John crisply.

'Why can't we come?' protested Dean.

'Dean. You WILL stay here and watch your brother,' John repeated sternly in a no-nonsense tone.

'Yes sir.'

'I will be out of contact, so if there's a problem, go to Bob, the guy who runs this motel. If it's our kind of problem, lock the doors, salt all entrances, and do not leave until I get back.'

'I know, Dad. We've been over it a million times.'

'And Dean,' said John, continuing as if Dean had said nothing. 'You are strictly NOT allowed to continue with the werewolf job until I return. Clear?'

'Crystal,' muttered Dean. 'Sir.'

'Good.'

John ruffled Sam's hair, who had remained silent throughout the entire conversation, and nodded his head at Dean. And just like that, he was gone.

'Great,' complained Dean. 'Forced to stay here with you and do nothing.'

'Get over it Dean,' said Sam, climbing into his Dad's bed. It was bad enough that he was forced to share with Dean while his father was around. He switched the lamp off. 'You should be used to it by now. He doesn't give a shit about us.'

'Language Sam,' snapped Dean, still fuming that his father had left him behind. 'That's not true. He does care. You just don't show any respect. Now go to sleep. It's 2.30am and you have school tomorrow.'

'So have you,' retorted back Sam.

'I'm older though and can do what I like,' mumbled Dean into his pillow, already half asleep.

'Whatever.'

Silence consumed the room as they slowly drifted off to sleep.

'Do I have to Dean?' moaned Sam as the Impala pulled up outside his school. 'Just one day off…please.'

'I thought you liked school.'

'I do…but this school is stupid! They're teaching me things I learnt LAST year,' Sam argued. His eyes pleaded with his brother.

'Don't do that,' complained Dean. 'Don't give me that look. You're going. I'll see you at 3.30pm like always.'

Sam cussed under his breath and stepped from the Impala, slamming the door behind him.

'Hey! Treat the car the way you wish to be treated!' Dean called after his brother. His only response was Sam pausing to stick up his rude finger. He sighed as he pulled away from the school. He loved his brother, and would do anything for him, but sometimes he could be a real pain the ass. He'd been driving Sam to school for a year now, thanks to his fake ID, and it was a whole lot easier than when he had to walk him. The license was a huge relief to have. Plus he got to drive the coolest car he'd ever laid eyes on. He flicked on his stereo, tapping his fingers along to the beat of _Highway to Hell, _and becoming deeply absorbed in the music. So absorbed, he didn't notice the car following him.

The rumbling from the Impala died as Dean pulled up outside the motel and cut the engine. He'd spent a while cruising the streets, but an hour and a half and an almost empty petrol tank later forced him to head back to the hotel. He was suffering from an extreme case of boredom. Most likely he'd end up bumming around the motel room, watching crappy daytime TV, cleaning his guns and researching werewolves in his father's old books. He stepped out of the car, shivering slightly at the cold crisp air that hit him front on. His fingers numb already from the cold, he fumbled awkwardly with the motel keys, muttering to himself when the door finally gave in and the lock clicked open. Throwing his stuff down onto his bed, he collapsed in one of the under stuffed armchairs and studied his hands intently, sighing. He was already bored. Deciding food was the best option, he looked in the cupboard to see what was stocked, finally making a decision and grabbing a bag of chips. As he nonchalantly shoved a handful into his mouth, a loud, persistent knock on the door me his ears. Swallowing the chips, Dean sidled cautiously to the door.

'Who is it?'

'Mr. Young, its Bob, the owner of this motel,' came a voice. 'I need to speak with you.'

'Uh…my Dad's not here at the moment,' called back Dean. He furrowed his brow in confusion. That voice sounded oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

'I still need to speak with you,' said the man impatiently. 'It's important. If you don't open the door I will.'

Seeing no other option, Dean unlocked the door, and began to cautiously open it. Unexpectedly, the man outside shoved the door open fully, hitting Dean and causing him to stumble back, before he tackled him and attempted to pin the stunned boy to the ground. Dean immediately began to fight back, thrashing around wildly in an attempt to dislodge the man, who was twice his size. His attacker finally got a hold of Dean's wrists and held them down on the floor tightly, staring at him with distaste. Dean ceased his struggling as he finally got a good look at the man, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

'Tom?'

The mans face remained unreadable as his fist raised in the air.

'Now your dad will know how I feel,' he whispered menacingly.

That was the last thing Dean heard before Tom's fist connected with his face, rendering him unconscious.

An immense relief washed over Sam as the school bell rang for the final time that day. He rushed from the classroom, stopping briefly at his locker to get his bag, and followed the swarm of children rushing out the front door to go home. Glancing around, the first thing he noticed was that Dean wasn't where he usually was parked; actually he wasn't anywhere.

'_Ok, so he's running late,' _thought Sam. But he knew he was kidding himself. Dean was never late. He was in the exact same spot everyday, waiting for Sam to finish school. And in the depths of his stomach, Sam could tell. Something was wrong. Pulling out his mobile phone, he dialed Dean's number, listening to the ringing tone anxiously. He bit his lip as Dean's voice mail started up.

'_You've called Dean Winchester. Leave a message.'_

The concerned Sam further. Dean never missed a call. Especially from him. Not bothering on waiting to see if Dean showed up, Sam began to jog the few miles to the motel.

The first thing he saw was Dean's car, sitting out the front of their room.

'_Maybe he just fell asleep,' _thought Sam. But the weight of dread still hung heavily in his stomach. Something wasn't right. Approaching the motel door, Sam noticed it was slightly ajar. He pushed it open carefully, gasping at the sight in front of him. On the floor in front of him, Dean's bag of chips lay strewn messily all over the carpet. The rest of the room had been trashed completely, and there were signs of a struggle. But one thing was for sure. Dean was gone. And a daunting message, painted on the wall with blood stood out immensely.

"_Payback's a bitch, isn't it John?"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thankyou all for your kind reviews. I tried to reply to you all, but my computer screwed up...but really, i do apreciate all reviews, and will reply to them when i can.**

**Here's chapter two - i hope it lives up to expectations:)**

**Nikki**

****

**Chapter Two**

Tom stared down in anger and disgust at the boy who lay unconscious beneath him. He was going to pay for his father's mistakes.

'What a weakling,' he muttered to himself. 'Can't even fight.'

He drew his dagger, resisting the urge to stab Dean in the heart. He had better plans for him. Instead, he pressed it to his own palm, sliding the knife across it with force, drawing a deep gash of blood. And with that blood, he began to write, smearing his palm on the wall until his words stood clear and proud.

'_Payback's a bitch, isn't it John?' _

He stood back, admiring his work, startled slightly when a moan escaped Dean's lips. He was coming around. Tom sprang into action, lifting the dazed and half-conscious boy from the floor and hurrying outside, dropping him into the boot of his car. He pulled some handcuffs from his back pocket, slapping them on Dean, harshly twisting his arms behind him, before drawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and tying it tightly over Dean's mouth. It was enough, for now, to keep Dean quiet if anyone should walk past and pry. Satisfied no one had seen him, he slammed the boot shut, and headed back into the motel room, closing the door behind him. Chaos ensued from that moment.

His anger, the anger that had boiled inside him for those two, heart-wrenchingly difficult years, finally imploded, and he grabbed anything and everything in sight; throwing chairs, plates, vases, even cutlery. He ripped sheets, and destroyed shelving.

He finally stopped, and as he puffed from his effort, he stared at his destruction, somewhat concerned, yet satisfied with his result. John Winchester had changed him; had made him a broken man. So he would break John. He slowly began to back away from the room, and in an instant he was gone, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Sam was at a loss of what to do. His father was gone, his brother missing, and a trashed motel room stood before him. Wiping his forehead with shaking hands, he stepped cautiously into the disarray, pausing in the middle of the room. His mind frozen in shock, he finally cleared it with a slight shake of his head. He had to get it together for Dean. But calm didn't come easily for him. The panic arose in his body quickly and sickeningly, like vomit rises in the back of your throat, and a surge of desperation shot through him.

'Dean!' he screamed. He knew he'd get no reply. Dean was long gone by now. Sam was alone. Alone, scared, confused. Young and innocent. And with no clue of how to handle the situation. His father had never told him what to do if this happened. He was completely, and utterly, _alone. _He ran outside again, his keen eyes spotting fresh tyre skid marks that began from the back of the Impala. Dean was in that car. Sam could tell. His mind still jumbled, Sam ran in the direction of the marks. Frantic. His judgment clouded. His heart beating fast with dread. And now he was just running. To make himself believe he knew where he was going; that he knew where Dean was. He was running, faster and faster, as if trying to escape the clutches of reality that threatened to ruin him. He rounded a corner, slamming hard into another person, before staggering backwards and skidding to the ground. He stared up at the older boy, who still stood strong, seemingly unmoved by the collision.

'Whoa there squirt!' exclaimed the boy, offering his hand. 'Where are you going in such a hurry?'

'I um…I'm looking for my brother,' replied Sam, accepting the offered hand wearily and hauling himself to his feet with some help.

'I'm Gavin,' the boy offered with a friendly smile.

Sam studied him with a slightly suspicious eye. Gavin looked to be around Dean's age, and wore blue jeans that showed a lot of wear, with a simple black t-shirt and biker boots. He had brown curls that matted his hair, and fell freely to his ears. He had a light complexion that had a hint of rose throughout it, and a smile that could melt a girl's heart. But it was his eyes that got to Sam. They were a piercing blue, and shone brightly in the evening sunlight, but Sam could see they held no happiness. They held a darkness; a tortured soul beneath them, hiding more problems than what could be fixed. But Sam instantly liked him.

'I'm Sam,' he finally replied. 'I'm sorry, but I really should-'

'Sam?' interrupted Gavin. 'Sam Winchester? You're just the person I was looking for!'

'Why were you looking for me?' Sam asked slowly, feeling a little nervous.

'Sam…when you say you're looking for your brother, what exactly do you mean?' asked Gavin urgently, his face showing fear.

'Dean…he's….he's missing,' blurted out Sam. 'Someone took him from our motel room! And my dad…he's away at the moment. I've got no one to go to!'

A tear finally escaped his eye.

'Oh no,' moaned Gavin. 'Sam…don't worry. I'm here now. I'll help you fix this.'

'How?' spat out Sam incredulously. 'I don't see why I should even trust you…you're a stranger! For all I know you could've taken my brother!'

'I assure you Sam, I didn't take you're brother,' said Gavin, gripping Sam's shoulders. 'But I know who did. That's why I'm here. I came to warn you…but I guess I was too late. I'm an old family friend…your father would know me.'

'Who took my brother?' ordered Sam. 'Tell me!'

Gavin looked around, eying passing people suspiciously.

'Sam, you have to trust me. Let's go back to your motel room, and we can discuss it there.'

Gavin walked off toward Sam's room, leaving the boy standing in confusion at what had just happened. Sam knew he shouldn't trust strangers; it was one of his dad's biggest rules. But right now, he didn't have a choice. Something about Gavin felt right. And it was on this instinct that Sam finally jogged after him, and disappeared into the motel room.

Dean awoke to a tight, dark, cramped space. His head throbbed and his face ached, his mind a complete mess. The cloud inside his head that blurred his mind cleared, and memories of what had happened flooded back to him. Tom. That bastard Tom had jumped him, had slammed his fist into his head, and had thrown him into the boot of his car. A nice way to say hello after disappearing for two solid years. Dean shifted uncomfortably as the car rocketed over a bump, smashing him into the walls of his confinement. He twisted his arms awkwardly in an attempt to slide his hands from the cuffs, but they were clamped too tightly onto his wrists, and had no give in them at all.

No air was coming into the boot, and Dean could feel it beginning to heat up, his air restricted by the gag, drying his mouth up and choking him slightly. He wasn't afraid though. Though his current circumstance wasn't extremely pleasant, Dean was just glad it wasn't Sam in his place suffering. He hoped Sam had enough common sense to stay in the motel until his father came back.

'_Whenever that is,' _he thought disgustedly. Sam could be alone for weeks. But it was better than being in Dean's spot. Dean knew he was in for a tough ride. He knew what Tom was capable of. He just didn't know why Tom was doing this. Only time would tell.

Sam swallowed down the fear that swirled its way up his throat, making him feel sick. Seeing the motel room was hard; the blood, the broken items, the sign of struggle. Not wanting to touch anything, he stayed at the door, leaning against it for support, not trusting his legs to hold his weight. He watched in silence as Gavin searched the room, grabbing things that looked to belong to Sam and Dean and shoving them into a bag as he went.

'Are there any weapons in here?' Gavin asked. 'I need you to collect all your hunting stuff. We won't be coming back here.'

While at first Sam was stunned that this boy, this stranger knew of his hunting status, he soon nodded his head and set about pulling a large duffle bag full of weapons from under his bed. The one place the ransacker hadn't bothered to look. He came to a stop besides Dean's bed, his worried gaze landing on Dean's prized knife, strewn on the floor, which usually hid beneath Dean's pillow. He picked it up sadly and added it to his collection. Dean would want it when they found him.

'Do you see anything else of yours?' Gavin asked.

'No…that's about it,' replied Sam. Through the mess on the floor, Sam spotted the Impala keys and snatched them up with relief.

'We'll have to move Dean's car,' said Sam. 'It's got a lot of illegal things in it.'

'We'll need a car anyway,' said Gavin. 'I've only got my motorbike, so I can't carry much around.'

'Gavin,' began Sam. 'Can you tell me already? Who's got my brother? I need to find him.'

'Look, let's just get out of here, go get some food or whatever, and I'll explain it to you then. I promise.'

He strode out of the room, lugging with him Dean and Sam's possessions. Sam watched him go, before taking a final look around at the room. He turned away, set on leaving it behind, to remove the destruction from his mind. He never wanted to feel this way again.

They finally settled at a café, Sam with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and Gavin with a coffee.

'No more stalling,' said Sam. 'Tell me, now.'

Gavin sighed slightly, running his finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

'I guess I should start from the beginning,' he started. 'You see, two years ago, my dad Tom and my brother Mike went on a hunt with your father and Dean. I don't know if they ever told you what happened with this one, but they were hunting a Wendigo, and it all went south. Mike died…and dad blamed John.'

'I'm sorry,' muttered Sam.

'So when Dad came home, he was broken. He changed. I'd never seen him with so much hatred in my life. He and Mike were really close; I was always the one left out. I never did like hunting, though I always did as dad said, did every single thing he asked. But it was never good enough.'

'I know what that feels like,' Sam said softly.

'Well anyway, Dad stopped talking to me. I was always the failure, but he'd never been this bad before,' Gavin said, his eyes distant. 'I guess it was because I reminded him of Mike so much.'

'How did you remind him of Mike?'

'Mike and I are…were twins. But he was the older one.'

'Oh…I see. That must have been really hard for you when you lost Mike,' sympathised Sam.

'Oh, it was. Mike and I had always been close, though I couldn't help but resent him since Dad liked him so much. I always wondered what I had done wrong. But when dad came home and told me of Mike…truthfully, I blamed your dad as well. It took me a while, but I realised everyone makes mistakes. Plus dad hadn't exactly told me all the details, so I could see where John was coming from with his actions.'

'I'm sorry, I really am,' said Sam sincerely. 'But did your dad take Dean?'

Gavin nodded gravely.

'He told me his plans…one of the rare moments when he spoke to me. He didn't tell me a lot, but it was enough. He wants John to know what it feels like to lose a son. He wants revenge on all the suffering he went through.'

'Is he going to kill Dean?'

'No, he's not,' said Gavin seriously. 'But in my opinion what he is going to do is much worse. He thought that the only feeling worse than losing a son, was knowing your son was alive somewhere in the world, but you would never see them again. And in certain ways I agree.'

Sam fought back the urge to let tears spill from his eyes.

'Why are you helping me?' he asked in complete sincerity. 'He's your father. Why would you turn him in like that?'

'Because dad's changed. For the worse. I just want him back to how he was. And doing this to your brother is not the answer. It's wrong.'

They drank in silence. Gavin drained the last of his coffee, and smiled at Sam.

'Don't worry Sam. We'll get your brother back. I promise.'

'Thanks,' whispered Sam. He hoped Gavin was right. He couldn't live without Dean.


	3. Chapter 3

I am SO! so so sorry times a billion!

I went to post this chapter the other day, and realised that 2 MASSIVE paragraphs had been deleted, and i had to re-write them. I lacked inspiration, could barely remember what they originally said, so sorry if this chapter is BAD. Which i think it is.

Also, it's unbeta'd...so i apologise in advance for any mistakes. Please review!!!

Nikki

**Chapter Three**

Tom stared at his dilemma. He'd reached his destination of downtown Atlanta, and parked his car in an empty warehouse that belonged to a friend of his. But the moment he had stepped from his vehicle, what he had done; the situation he had put himself in hit him, and it hit him hard. He had a young, innocent teen bound and gagged in his boot. He wasn't normally a spiteful man; a man set on revenge. What had happened to him?

'John Winchester happened,' he snarled to himself. The adrenaline that had pumped through his veins, which had caused him to act so rashly that afternoon, came flooding back, wiping all the doubts he had momentarily had away. John deserved this for killing his son. A small smile played onto his lips at the thought of the panic John Winchester was probably going through at that moment. The thought thrilled him to bits. Power surged through him as he overcame his dilemma, flinging the boot open and staring down delighted at his still quiet and restrained prisoner. He gripped the neck of Dean's t-shirt tightly, using one hand to drag the boy painfully from the confines of the boot. He watched the 16 year old struggle in his grip momentarily, soaking in the glory of his authority, before dumping the teen hard onto the ground.

Dean rolled stiffly onto his back, his hands trapped beneath him, and he stared up into the eyes of his estranged captor. Dean was shocked by Tom's appearance. This man, once his mentor and hero, had never looked so defeated in his life. His face was thinned out and pale, his once sparkling eyes stone cold; dead. His brown hair, once shiny and full of life, hung raggedly down his face, dull and uncared for.

His health was gone, except for his over-worked muscles, which bulged unnaturally from his scrawny body.

'What's so special about you?' Tom finally sneered. 'Why did that Wendigo choose my son? WHY DIDN'T IT TAKE YOU?'

He reached down and yanked Dean to his feet, pulling the gag out as he went.

'Answer the question,' he demanded fiercely.

'I don't know,' rasped Dean. 'I don't know why it went for Mike first. But it wasn't my fault!'

'I don't believe you!' challenged Tom, smacking Dean hard across the face. 'You never even told me what happened that night. You're hiding something, I can tell!'

'No I'm not,' pleaded Dean in response. 'That night traumatised me as much as it did you. I was a kid; I still am! And how could I have told you what happened; you disappeared! Dad and I thought you were dead!'

'Oh, I'm very much alive,' Tom growled. 'Now tell me what happened.'

His fingers will still tightly curled into Dean's t-shirt, his knuckles white from the pressure. His voice softened.

'I…I need to know.'

'Mike and I did exactly what you told us to. We went to find the non-existent woman,' Dean blurted out with his most sincere face. Maybe if he was straightforward and co-operative, Tom would let him go. At least, he hoped he would. 'And when we got there, it ambushed us. That's when I yelled out for you, and Mike took a shot at it. That just pissed it off, and it grabbed Mike, and when…when I tried to save him, it threw me into a tree. That's how I hurt my head. Then you came along; and you know what happened then.'

Dean licked his dry lips, deterred slightly by the smirk on Tom's face. He avoided eye contact.

'Dean,' said Tom, releasing the boy's shirt and smoothing the creases, 'I see now, it wasn't your fault! I understand.'

'You do?' Dean stared at him blankly.

'How stupid do you think I am!' He shoved the unprepared boy up against the car. 'I know you lied to me. Everyone has a certain habit when they lie. Whether it's fiddling with your hair, scratching your nose, looking everywhere except where the person is standing; all these are tell tale signs of something.'

Dean remained silent.

'Lying,' hissed Tom. 'I'll give you one chance to change your story.'

'But-'

'One chance!'

Dean stayed quiet. Screw being co-operative! This guy was insane! And yeah, he'd lied. It was nothing that big. But he knew Tom would flip. And who knew what he would do next?

'DEAN!' thundered Tom. 'TELL. ME. NOW.'

'Fine!' Dean burst out. 'You wanna know? The Wendigo was coming for me, and I didn't see it. So Mike tackled me out of the way, which is how I really cut my head open. He took a shot at the Wendigo, missed, but made it mad. It grabbed him, then you came. He saved my life!'

'What are you saying?' exclaimed Tom furiously.

'Mike sacrificed himself to save ME! It was his choice, not mine. So don't blame this on me, and don't blame it on my dad. It was the last heroic thing your son did, and you should be proud of him! Not treating me and my dad like shit! You have to get into your mad little mind that it was an ACCIDENT! A tragic, horrible accident!'

Tom could take no more. He'd lost his heart, lost his common sense, and he didn't see the light that shone on the understanding of the night his son died. He didn't understand. He was traumatised and set on revenge. His face burned red, but he held it in, allowing the anger, confusion, disgust; everything he felt, just boil inside him, and entwine together with cause to explode.

'Come with me,' he ordered crisply, gripping Dean's arm and leading him into one of the near-by warehouse offices.

'You'll be staying in here as long as I want you to,' Tom told Dean flatly, pressing Dean up against a wall and callously removing his handcuffs. 'Then who knows where you'll end up.'

He stalked from the room, slamming and locking the door behind him. His remark echoed through Dean's head, and he wondered, with a small amount of fright and dread, what Tom had planned for him.

One glance around the room, and he knew he was trapped. It was completely bare, with no windows; the only exit being the door he came through. With no other choice, he slid to the hard ground and leant his head back against the smooth plasterboard. His only option was to wait.

Sam glanced inconspicuously for the millionth time at Gavin, who was behind the wheel of the Impala. He wasn't used to seen a stranger driving his brother's most prized possession, and he had already forewarned Gavin on the consequences if anything happened to it. Mow they were cruising along to god knows where.

'Where are we going?' asked Sam exasperated.

'Back to the hotel my dad and I were staying at, in a near by town,' was the smooth reply.

'Why?'

'Coz my dad could've left a clue to where he's taken Dean.'

'Why didn't you look before you came to find me?'

'He was always around. Last night he must have drugged me; I woke up in the afternoon to find he was gone, so I came looking for you and Dean to warn you. But I was too late.'

They lapsed back into silence as the Impala shot through the night to its destination.

Sam had seen a lot of scenery in his time, with all the travel he'd experienced. But he'd never connected with it; now like he was now. They'd left the city behind, and the moonlight shone brightly on the rolling hills, while the stars twinkled merrily in the black sky. Sam couldn't help but wonder what Dean was doing.

They soon pulled in to the darkened motel parking lot, Gavin looking sympathetically at the worn out boy beside him, who had finally fallen into a restless sleep. Cutting the engine quietly, he quickly carried his belongings into the motel room, returning to the car to retrieve Sam. He gently unbuckled the young teen's seatbelt, lifting him carefully from the seat and staggering inside with him. He hadn't looked this heavy! After laying him on one of the soft beds, Gavin watched him, amazed at the innocence Sam portrayed when he was asleep. He looked normal; free from the reality of his life.

Sighing, Gavin pulled the bed covers over Sam, and began searching for any clues his father may have left. He hit the jackpot. After shuffling through a pile of papers on his father's bedside table, he withdrew a single piece of paper, which only held a name, a location, and a date. He sat slowly on the bed, staring at the name, his eyes in shock. This was bad. Really, really bad. His father was insane for even contemplating it. But he knew his eyes weren't deceiving him, and he bit his lip, shooting a look towards Sam in dread. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't. Sam wouldn't cope; he was only young. He chewed his nails anxiously, knowing that sleep wouldn't come that night.

Sam's eyes fluttered open quietly, his tiredness washed away. He rolled over in the bed, hugging the comforts of the blanket that covered him. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten to bed…his eyes widened further when he realised that Dean was still missing. He sat up quickly, throwing the blanket off him and stiffly raising from the bed.

'Morning Sam!' Gavin greeted him cheerfully from the stove. 'I've made you some bacon and eggs on toast.'

Sam numbly made his way to a kitchen stool, and eyed the plate of food before him hungrily.

'Thanks,' he finally said, picking up a fork and digging in.

'How ya feeling today?' Gavin asked, concern crossing his eyes. 'Get enough sleep?'

'Yeah, I guess,' Sam mumbled through a mouthful of food. 'Any leads?'

Gavin's gaze dropped, unable to look Sam in the eye. He continued to busily cook breakfast, hoping Sam hadn't noticed.

'No, no leads.'

Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

'Tell me Gavin.'

'There's nothing to tell.'

'Yes there is! I'm not a stupid child!' Sam shot back angrily.

'Believe me, you don't want to know.'

'I'm his BROTHER! Of course I want to know! Just tell me already!'

'It's nothing! It's just a stupid piece of paper with a name and address on it. Like I said – nothing.'

'What name?' Sam demanded. 'You know who it is don't you!'

'If I tell you Sam, you'll act irrationally and screw everything up!'

'I'm not five! I realise the severity of our situation!' Sam eyes pleaded with Gavin's. 'Please.'

'Sam…' Gavin groaned, running his hand through is hair. 'My Dad; he's selling Dean. He's selling him tonight.'

**Have a nice day :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome to chapter 4! I hope you enjoy it, and leave a review, because i absolutly adore feedback! But please - no flames. Constructive criticism only! Please enjoy :)**

**Also, i only just relised that in previous chapters, my scene breaks didnt work. Sorry if the sudden scene changes were confusing/annoying! I know i get annoyed when people dont have breaks between scenes...From now on, it'll be easier on your minds! Sorry!**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Dean and Sam - they belong to the belovedly evil Eric Kripke. Besides, if they were mine, i wouldn't be sharing! Lol.**

**Chapter 4**

It had taken him hours to finally fall asleep. His body had rested; restored its strengths, and it forced Dean awake with its energy. Dean winced as the bright overheard light pierced his eyes as they cracked open sleepily, and he shielded them with his hand. What time was it? He couldn't tell. No light shone into the room except from the electric one. He couldn't even tell if it were morning. As his eyes began to gradually adjust, he sat up slowly, wincing as he stretched his sore limbs after a night on the solid floor. Using the wall as a support, he scrambled to his feet, rubbing his stiff neck to help relieve the pain. He began to walk laps of the room to get his circulation flowing once more through his limbs, but he froze the instant he heard the door being unlocked. Should he ambush Tom? He considered it quickly, and deciding to go for it, pressed himself to the wall beside the door. It crashed open inwardly, and Dean tensed, waiting for Tom to come in.

'You must really think I'm dumb Dean,' chided Tom. 'I know what you're up to. You're father taught you everything…and I taught your father.'

Dean swore silently to himself.

'I'm not here to get you anyways,' chuckled Tom. 'I thought you might be hungry.'

A bag of chips sailed through the air and skidded to a halt in the middle of the room.

'What time is it?' called out Dean.

'I don't see why it matters,' replied Tom. 'But since you've been co-operative, it's 8.38 and 15 seconds in the morning. Now be a gentleman and close the door.'

'Now why would I do that? Why don't you come in and pull it shut yourself,' retorted Dean. 'I know you can't stand out there forever and wait for me to escape…you have to shut the door eventually.'

'But on the contrary, little Sammy might not make it through this little…ordeal.'

Dean's blood ran cold.

'You have Sam?'

Tom chuckled.

'Go on Dean…make your decision. You can shut the door and let me lock it, or Sam can feel what it's like to burn to death like Mike did.'

The coldness of his tone sliced the air, and Dean didn't doubt for a second that Tom was crazy enough to kill his brother. He stepped out into the doorway, his gaze steady and defiant as he stared into Tom's eyes. Tom smirked at him; and in return Dean slammed the door in his face, the click of the lock echoing in his ears. Did Tom really have Sam? He had nothing to do with this! His thoughts were interrupted by his growling stomach, and he eyed the bag of chips that lay so temptingly before him.

His stomach growled once more, and that was enough encouragement to eat the chips. He was a growing boy after all. He sat down against a wall, and his thoughts went back to Sam as he devoured the food hungrily. It wasn't even 9am, which meant Sam had been alone for over 17 hours; assuming that Tom had been lying through his teeth about having Sam, to get him to co-operate.

'_That's the most likely case,' _he muttered inwardly.

And his dad; when would he be back? He hadn't even told him how long he'd be away, or where he was going. Dean assumed he'd be gone at least a week; Bobby would never call his dad for help unless it was a big job. He glanced upwards in disbelief as the light above him flickered, before the bulb blew and he was plunged into darkness.

'Great,' he complained loudly. 'What else can go fucking wrong?'

- - - - - - - - - -

Sam's fork paused half way to his mouth.

'What?'

'My dad…he's selling Dean,' Gavin said, ashamed. 'He's selling him tonight.'

'Gavin…we have to stop him! He can't do that!'

'I know he can't Sam…but there's nothing we can do! These guys…these guys that buy kids for labour or whatever they want them for, they're dangerous! Extremely dangerous! And if you or I got caught, we'd never be free ever again. These guys would KILL us if they saw us there.'

'I don't care! We have to get Dean. We have to.'

'Look, I never said we wouldn't try. But going to that address tonight; it's suicide. Just eat up and we'll figure something out.'

'I lost my appetite,' mumbled Sam, pushing his chair away from the bench and storming off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Gavin sighed, running his hand through his thick hair in frustration. Sam was right. They had to get Dean. Otherwise they'd loose him forever. He knew the pain of losing a brother; he'd been there. It felt like apart of your soul had been ripped from your body, the wound left open to bleed freely until your inner demons were set free and the wound was sewn shut. His wound was still open; still bleeding, and if they didn't get Dean, Sam would be the same. Gavin didn't want Sam to _ever _have to go what he had been through; he wasn't worthy of it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam slammed the door as hard as he could, tears flowing freely down his face. How could Gavin say that? They HAD to find Dean. They had to! But instead their in a fucking hotel room, sitting back and relaxing while Dean was out there, suffering. Sam's fists clenched tightly against his sides as he stepped forward and smashed his foot into the small rubbish bin. He watched as it crashed into the wall, and fell to the tiled floor with a clatter. His breath came in deep puffs of air, his face red, his eyes still watering.

He angrily pulled the lid of the toilet seat down, and sat on it in a huff. He wiped his wet eyes dry with some toilet paper, and took some calming breaths.

He was probably overreacting. Gavin was older; wiser perhaps, and Sam knew he was right. The sales are dangerous places to be. Sam knew he had lost his temper too easily; his mind was wild with emotional pain. He wasn't thinking straight. Rubbing his temples gently to ease the throbbing that persisted in his head, he glanced up as the door creaked open.

'Hey Sam,' said Gavin, leaning against the door frame. 'I'm sor-'

'I'm sorry,' interrupted Sam. 'You have no need to be sorry. You did nothing wrong. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did…I'm not thinking straight. This whole thing with your dad and Dean has really messed me up.'

'No Sam, I am sorry, and I have reason to be. You are right; we have to find Dean. And we will, I promise,' Gavin swore, his face serious. 'And you have every right to be upset. I mean, for a 12 year old kid, you're pretty tough.'

Sam smiled slightly and looked up at him.

'I really appreciate everything you've done so far,' Sam said softly. 'I don't know what I would've done by myself. My dad's out of town, and god knows when he'll be back…I would've just kept running if I hadn't ran into you.'

'Dude, I did you a _favour_ by stopping you running,' said Gavin, a grin appearing on his face. 'You run like a nerd.'

A toilet roll sailed his way and he ducked it neatly with a laugh.

'Come on Sam, let's get going.'

- - - - - - - - - -

Light poured into the room as the door was opened.

'You need to take better care of this place,' quipped Dean. 'The light blew on me. I've been sitting in the dark for hours. I kinda hoped you were giving me a surprise and I'd find a woman in here to have some fun with, but it looks like you're not equipped with that luxury.'

'Still the smart ass I see,' commented Tom.

'It's one of my finer qualities.'

'Get up,' ordered Tom.

'Nah, I think I'll just stay down here a while. This concrete floor is the most comfortable thing I've ever had the pleasure to sit on.'

Tom slid his gun from his pocket.

'Don't make me ask you twice.'

Dean shrugged and got to his feet. He stuck his hands into his pocket and leant casually against the wall.

'What now?'

'I can't wait to get rid of you,' sneered Tom. 'You are a complete pain in the ass. I guess it's better to hand you off to some other lucky person.'

'So what, you're gunna take me to a street corner and stick a 'kid for sale' sign on me?' retorted Dean.

'Something like that.'

'Oh joy.'

'Turn around,' ordered Tom, waving his gun at Dean. 'Put your hands behind your back.'

Dean took a step closer to Tom, raising his hands slightly as Tom clicked the safety off his gun.

'You of all people know how well I shoot,' said Tom. 'And right now this bullet is aimed for the middle of your forehead.'

Dean paused, his mouth open and ready to retort, but he thought better and closed it. Tom was right; he knew what he was capable of. He turned and faced the wall, his hands behind him, fingers entwined.

'So why didn't you use the 'I'll burn your brother to death' threat?' scoffed Dean. It had become obviously clear to him that Tom didn't have Sam. Sam was worthless to him, and wouldn't ease any pain. Dean had been there when Mike had died; Dean was the eldest like Mike. Tom was making John suffer by using the same details. Same details, same pain. He winced slightly as Tom fit a pair of cuffs snugly around his wrists.

'God!' he exclaimed, wiggling his fingers. 'Ever heard of a thing called circulation?'

Tom stayed silent, and instead yanked the cuffs for good measure. Dean bit his lip as the metal sliced his skin slightly. Tom roughly gripped his arm and began to lead him out of the room to the car, Dean stumbling along after him. They stopped at the boot of the car, and Tom popped it open.

'Get in.'

'But it's so small…'

'Get in.'

Dean grunted in disgust as he slid into the boot and attempted to get comfortable. Darkness fell as the lid dropped shut and clicked into place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

'Where are we?' asked Sam, fidgeting impatiently in the passenger seat. 'Is Dean here?'

'This is the address I found,' replied Gavin, staring intently out of his window. 'My dad's arranged to meet someone here to most likely trade Dean.'

'Is there something you're not telling me?' Sam blankly blurted out. 'Coz it feels like you are. Who's this guy your Dad's meeting with?'

Gavin paused.

'His name is Karl Rennie. He's a businessman, a crooked one, and he's notorious for buying kids and teenagers for slavery, or to do his dirty work. The police have never been able to pin him on it; hell, they don't even know what he looks like. Sam, once this guy has Dean, there's a very slim chance that we'll get him back.'

He finally summed up the courage to look at Sam, and was rather surprised by the set, determined look that had crossed the boys face. A 12 year old, forced to be older than his age; forced to grow up too quick, having been through more than any normal 12 year old could ever imagine.

'We'll get him back,' Sam stated, his voice far more confident than he or Gavin felt. He turned his attention to the block of land before him. The address had led them to a run down area of the town they were currently residing in, and they found themselves parked across the street staring at a fenced off area; most likely a junk yard. The black impala blended smoothly into the shadows, its two occupants hidden from recognition.

Sam and Gavin watched in silence as a sleek black car turned into the entrance of the block; the gates opening instantly.

'I'd say that's Rennie,' murmured Gavin, getting out of the Impala as the yards gates closed once again. Sam followed quickly, and together they stalked quietly across the road. They scouted the fence carefully, both finding small holes to look through. Sam pressed his eye carefully to the hole, swallowing nervously as he watched the men inside. He could clearly see two men, heavily armed, standing behind a distinguished looking man. He looked rich; _filthy _rich, and was talking to a man who Sam presumed to be Gavin's father. Dean wasn't in sight.

Tom and Rennie continued to talk in low voices, and Tom jerked his head toward the boot of his car a few time. After another 5 minutes of talking, they finally moved to open the boot.

'_That bastard!' _Sam cursed silently. _'How could he put Dean into that small cramped space?'_

Sam gritted his teeth as Tom dragged his brother from the luggage space and stood him in front of Rennie. The wealthy man couldn't have looked any more gleeful than he did at that moment as he looked Dean up and down.

'Gavin…what's the plan?' whispered Sam. Gavin stood a few metres, having found a crack in the fence to peer through.

'Truthfully Sam,' he replied quietly. 'There's nothing we can do. Look at the protection that guys got. We're nothing against them.'

Sam nodded numbly. As much as he hated to admit it, Gavin was right. They'd never get Dean on their own. They needed an adult; they needed John. He pressed his eye to the hole again, refusing to let the tears spill from his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's the latest! Thankyou all so much for your kind reviews - i'm pretty sure i replied to everyone, but if not, sorry!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please, as always, review! I know for a fact that people have subscribed to my story but aren't reviewing...so if your a lurker, please, review! I wont bite...hard. It doesnt even have to be a sentence, it can just be a word! But i know who you are...so please, a review would be appreciated.**

**Nikki**

**Chapter 5**

Dean strained to hear what Tom was saying. He'd been lying in that boot all afternoon, and his muscles were stiff and cramped from the confinement. He was slowly going crazy! He almost screamed with relief as the boot finally opened, the cold air hitting his face welcoming. Tom roughly gripped his arm and dragged him out, holding him steady as Dean's feet hit the ground, his circulation beginning to flow once more.

Now Dean was not short for his age, and he stood eye level with the strange man who was looking him up and down like he'd just found gold.

'Excellent,' Rennie exclaimed happily. 'It's perfect for my use.'

'Hey,' snarled Dean. 'One: "it" is standing right in front of you, and two: I am not an "it", I'm a human being and what you're doing is illegal. When my dad finds you…'

'He does have a few problems,' apologised Tom, his hand clamped tightly over Dean's mouth. 'Like holding his tongue.'

Dean glared.

'It's nothing we can't fix,' chuckled Rennie. 'How much do you want for…_him_?'

'Up to you…I'm not in this for the money. I just want him gone.'

'Done,' said Rennie, his smile sending a shiver down Dean's spine. Rennie motioned to one of his goons, who handed Tom a bulky envelope, before grabbing Dean and dragging him over to the car.

'Nice doing business with you,' Tom said, shaking Rennie's hand. 'You've been a great help solving my…problem.'

He closed his car boot and slid behind the driver's wheel, watching momentarily as Dean was wrestled into the back seat of Rennie's car. He waited in anticipation for the relief to wash over him; for the pain to go away, for the sweet feel of revenge to settle and rid of his troubles. It never came. He felt exactly the same as he had before…but there was something extra. A twinge of guilt swarmed through his emotions. This wasn't making sense. Selling Dean; making John suffer should've eased the pain, not added to it. But that's exactly what had happened. He knew he had done the wrong thing. With this thought, he slowly pulled out of the junk yard.

Sam and Gavin pressed themselves flat against the fence as the gates opened and Tom drove out. They held their breath as he looked around quickly, then squealed away down the street.

'Sam, c'mon, we have to get back to the car,' ordered Gavin. 'Before Rennie comes out.'

Sam remained still, his eyes shining with moisture.

'He really did it,' he whispered. 'He sold my brother.'

'Sam! Snap out of it!' exclaimed Gavin, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging him across the street.

'But they've got Dean!' Sam cried.

Gavin continued to drag Sam across the street, and managed to stash him into the passenger seat. He jogged around to the driver's side and skidded behind the wheel, starting the Impala with a roar. It shot into the night, away from the junk yard, from Rennie…from Dean.

Gavin glanced sadly at Sam who was staring gloomily out of his window to the stars that twinkled merrily in the black sky.

'Tell me again…that there was nothing we could do,' sniffed Sam.

'Sam…there's nothing we could've done. Let's go back to the motel, and you can get some rest, and we'll try to contact your dad.'

He got no response.

Ten minutes later, Gavin pulled up at the motel. He wasn't surprised to see his father's car wasn't in the parking lot; he'd expected his dad to leave and never come back after selling Dean. Gavin meant nothing to him. Gavin shrugged it off though, and proceeded to enter the motel room, Sam at his heels. Casually throwing his keys onto the table, he flicked on a light switch, his heart leaping out of his chest in shock.

John Winchester stood before him.

'Dad?' uttered Sam in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was seeing correctly.

'Hey Sammy.'

'Oh dad!' Sam cried out in joy, running to his father and wrapping his arms tightly around him. 'Dean's missing and he's been sold to a crook for slavery and we have to find him!'

'Hey, slow down kiddo,' said John, pulling Sam off him and resting his hands on his son's shoulders. He looked deeply and gravely into Sam's eyes as they welled with tears once more. Gavin stood by uncomfortably as he watched the emotional reunion.

'Hey John,' he finally said.

'Gavin,' acknowledged John. 'What's going on? Why are you with my boy? And what's this about dean missing?

'How did you know we were here?' Asked Gavin, crossing his arms defiantly. Although he still firmly believed that Mike's death was hardly John's fault, a stab of anger flowed through his body when he looked at him.

'I was heading back to Atlanta and spotted you two leaving here, in my sons car. But I really shouldn't have to explain myself to anyone. It doesn't matter. Now why is Sam here and not in Atlanta, and where's Dean?' John still hand his hand protectively on Sam's shoulder. Gavin sighed and ruffled his hair.

'It's kind of a long story…'

'Dad, Tom took Dean to get revenge on you for killing Mike, so he sold him to this guy called Karl Rennie who's gunna use him for slavery and to do his dirty work!' blurted out Sam, distressed. 'We've gotta get him back!'

John looked shocked at Sam's outburst.

'Tom…Tom's _alive_?' He looked up at Gavin incredulously. He bit his lip, anxious. 'I'll be damned.'

'Dad told me what he had planned…and I thought it was horrible,' explained Gavin. 'He's changed…and I wanted my dad back to how he used to be. Before all this nonsense. I woke up one morning and he was gone. I tried to warn your boys in time but it was too late. So I took Sam under my wing…and brought him here. And an hour ago we watched as my dad handed Dean over to this Rennie guy. We were at loss of what we could do…we still are.'

Sam slipped quietly from his father's grasp as Gavin spoke, and headed into the bathroom. He figured that the two needed to have a one on one talk.

John looked gravely at Gavin.

'Your father knows what he's doing selling Dean to this Rennie guy, doesn't he. I've never heard of him, but if I remember your father, he was a very, very smart man.'

Gavin nodded.

'He thinks it'll ease the pain. He's been planning this since the night Mike…you know,' he shifted his weight in discomfort.

'This is bad,' muttered John.

'You're damn right it's bad,' snarled Tom from the doorway. He leant on the frame for support, his right arm raised and gripping a gun. It was aimed directly at John.

'Fancy you showing up here,' he slurred, taking a few uneasy steps into the room.

'Dad, have you been drinking?' asked Gavin, concerned.

'Quiet Gavin,' spat Tom. 'The adults are having a talk.'

Inside the bathroom, Sam froze at the sound of Tom's voice. He carefully opened the door slightly, and peered through the crack.

'Come on Tom,' said John. 'Put the gun down and talk to me properly.'

'No John!' yelled Tom. 'I want you to stand there and listen to what I have to say!'

He brought his left hand up to help support the quivering gun.

'You killed my boy. You didn't even consider how this would affect me. You think you're the only one who cares about family? You broke me…and now I've broken you by selling that brat off to someone you will _never _hunt down.'

'I'm a little confused. You sold my son for revenge on me, so that I'd suffer. But here you are threatening to kill me,' said John calmly. 'If you kill me, I won't really be suffering. That makes no sense. Or…didn't selling my son give you the happiness you thought it would? Huh? By the looks of things you've been drowning in your sorrows at a bar, not celebrating your happiness.'

'I'm doing what's necessary to get my life back on track!' yelled Tom. 'So yeah, I'll admit it: selling that smartass didn't do what I thought it would. But with you dead…this has to lift from my shoulders. I've waited a long time to get back at you…ever since you killed Mike, ON PURPOSE!'

'Now that's a lie!' exclaimed John angrily. 'I cared for your boys as much as I do mine.'

'Bye, John. I hope you burn in hell,' sneered Tom, clicking the safety off the gun. He placed his finger snugly around the trigger, set on pulling it back.

'NO!' screamed Sam, bursting from the bathroom. He tackled Tom hard, the gun swinging and pointing at Gavin as his fingers tightened on the trigger. Everything seemed to stop the second the gun fired. Sam and Tom continued their descent to the floor, Tom's face showing horror as the bullet shot through the air to his remaining son. John, in despair, lunged at Gavin, shoving him out of the way as the bullet hit his own flesh. He cried out in pain and stumbled to the ground, blood seeping from beneath his fingers as they clutched at his shoulder.

'Dad!' cried out Sam, scrambling to his father who slowly began to sit up.

'I'm ok Sammy,' he wheezed. 'It just clipped me.'

Sam sighed with relief as John staggered to his feet. He would've died if he'd lost both John and Dean.

Nearby, Tom was crying. He cried for Mike, he cried for Gavin…he cried for Dean. But he mostly cried for himself. He'd turned into a monster, he'd neglected his only son…and it wasn't John Winchesters fault. It was his. He had been in the wrong the whole time. He'd never even mourned for Mike; he'd been too set on revenge.

A gentle hand lay to rest on his shoulder, and he looked up sincerely at Gavin, his eyes red, puffy and full of tears.

'It's ok Dad,' Gavin said softly.

'I'm sorry,' his father wept, and they embraced tightly. 'I'm sorry for everything. You remind me so much of Mike…it was so hard.'

'I know,' Gavin soothed. They pulled apart, and Tom staggered to his feet, walking over to John, who had begun to dress his wound. He hung his head in shame as he spoke.

'John…I'm sorry,' Tom apologised. 'I haven't been thinking straight…but seeing you save my only boy made me realise…realise that it wasn't your fault. If I'd been in your position, I probably would've done the same.'

'No need to apologise,' John replied crisply. They made eye contact, and though his voice hadn't shown it, his eyes did; they showed acceptance. They showed an understanding. And that was enough for Tom.

'I'll help you get Dean back,' he muttered, rubbing his head which had begun to throb.

'You're in no state to help,' said John, letting Sam finish up on his shoulder. 'Go get some rest. You can help in the morning, when there's a little less Tequila runnin' through your veins.'

'Thankyou John,' Tom said quietly, and made his way toward a bed.

'C'mon Sammy,' said John. 'We'll go get our own room.'

Sam retrieved the few belongings that he had brought into the room, and with a small smile at Gavin, exited the room after his father. Sure, Dean was still missing, but things were looking better. With his Dad back, they would find Dean easily. Finally, they had hope.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The silence in the car was deafening as they watched Tom leave. Beside Dean sat his new "acquaintance", Rennie, who couldn't stop staring at him, his eyes shining with happiness.

'Look pal, I don't swing that way,' quipped Dean. 'Put your eyes away.'

'Wit can be a killer, Dean,' said Rennie smoothly. 'I've known many men who relied on their wit to make them seem courageous…but inside they're quivering…and then they end up dead, for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Hopefully that won't happen to you.'

'Uh huh…whatever you reckon,' scoffed Dean as Rennie's goons slid into the front seats, one of them starting up the car.

'I hope you realise Dean,' said Rennie. 'That you'll never be free again. Free will is a thing of the past. It doesn't exist in your life, and soon it won't exist in your mind. There will be no such thing as the outside world, just instructions; orders. But from what I hear you're already familiar with taking orders.'

Rennie glanced slyly at Dean as his face hardened.

'You're daddy's little boy aren't you,' he continued. 'Not one to refuse an order. That's what you'll be like with me…consider me your new father.'

'Yeah, when pigs fly,' spat out Dean.

Rennie chuckled.

'You, Dean, are probably the best purchase I've ever come across. You'll knock all the others dead. You're going to be great for me. I can already tell.'

'Oh yeah? Great at what exactly?' Dean's voice dripped with disgust.

'Taking care of things,' replied Rennie. 'Taking care of problems to be specific. There are people in the world that don't deserve to be here…and items they possess that I want.'

'I won't do your dirty work!' exclaimed Dean. 'Look at me; I'm 16 for fuck's sake. No 16 year old could do that!'

'But _you _will. Otherwise this is going to be a very painful experience for you.'

Rennie turned sharply to Dean.

'I will break you…you'll do what I want. Nothing exists but ME and my orders. Got it?'

'Bite me.'

They lapsed into silence, as the car rounded yet another corner. And before Dean knew it, the city was behind him, the car shooting along the lonely road, further away from civilisation; further from Sammy.

The car finally slowed, and turned into a hidden driveway. Metal gates loomed high above the car, and a thick, stone wall ran from either side, encased in brush and trees. The driver pressed a button and the gates swung open smoothly, closing once more when the car was through. The sound of the heavy metal clanging together sank into Dean's ears, making his situation feel uncomfortably permanent.

'Welcome home!' sang Rennie with glee.

Dean stayed quiet, but curiosity got the better of him as he craned his neck to see out of the window to his new "home". Dean's original suspicions were correct; this man was _rich. _His house was huge; a fountain greeted them in the middle of the driveway, and the car slowly pulled around it to the front door.

'Pretty, isn't it,' commented Rennie. 'Pity you won't be in the actual house for now; you'll be staying in the servant's quarters.'

'I figured,' muttered Dean, shifting uncomfortably. His hands were stiff from being behind his back so long; his fingers numb. He waited silently as Rennie's goons exited the car, and came around to his door. He considered running for it as his door was opened, but taking one look at the men decided against it. He'd never get past the gates anyway. So instead, he willingly slipped from the car, allowing both the goons to grip his arms.

'You know what to do with him,' sighed Rennie, waving his hand dismissively at them. 'I'll come and talk to him later, when he's settled.'

Dean watched with pure hatred as Rennie sauntered through the front door of his mansion, obviously happy with how the night had panned out. Then he was led away, around the side of the house, to the huge backyard that seemed to stretch endlessly in the dark. As he stumbled along the grassy terrain, a small brick building loomed ahead of him, no bigger than bedroom would be. He figured he'd be staying there; but it was too small to house more than one or two people. Where were the others Rennie had spoken of? The door swung open as they approached; as if it had been expecting them, and Dean was handed from one set of goons to another. They dragged him into the small room, and he looked around suspiciously. It had 2 small beds, a small table, a sink, and a toilet.

'So uh…only two beds?' asked Dean. 'Who will I be bunking down with?'

One of the goons gave him an unimpressed sideways glance as the other moved to the centre of the room. Dean had been so distracted looking around the room that he hadn't noticed the trap door that was set below the table. The table was pushed easily out of the way, the door unbolted, and the lid lifted up to reveal a narrow flight of stairs leading under the house.

'Your bed's downstairs,' grinned the guard.

Dean was pushed to the edge of the staircase, and took the hint, moving slowly and carefully down the constricted staircase. It didn't go very deep. Dean hit the bottom in no time at all, and stared uneasily down the brightly lit, elegant corridor. And he'd been expecting stone walls and flaming torches. A small poke in the back urged him forward; down the skinny hallway to a thick steel door that looked oddly out of place amongst the cream walls and feature lights. A guard squeezed past him, unlocking the padlock and sliding the heavy bolt from the door. He swung it open, leading the way to yet another hallway, which had dozens of doors lined on either side. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was behind them. Dean didn't have to walk far. He was brought to a halt outside the third door to the right, and the door was opened. Dean stared distastefully at the skinny room before him. It was 2 metres wide, and about 4 metres deep. Along the solid brick wall was a single bed, a sink and a toilet, while the left side was empty, the wall a row of bars that separated him from the next room.

'Welcome home,' said the guard brightly, releasing Dean's wrists and shoving him into the room. The door was shut and locked behind him, leaving Dean standing awkwardly in the small space.

'Hey,' came a voice from beside Dean. He jumped slightly, turning quickly to face the boy in the next room.

'Oh…hi,' he muttered.

'I'm BJ,' the boy continued, offering his hand through the bars with a smile.

'Dean.'

They shook hands.

'Looks like you're my new roommate,' said BJ, gripping the bars. 'Well…in a way.'

'Are all the rooms like this?' asked Dean, looking around cynically.

'Yeah. The rooms were too big apparently, so they divided them in half,' BJ informed him. 'Plus they fit more people in this way.'

'How old are you?'

'I'm 15 and a half.'

'How long have you been here?'

'2 years around,' replied BJ. 'My uncle kidnapped me and sold me to this nutcase because he was broke. He sold his own nephew…what a jerk. I'll probably never see my family again.'

'I'm sorry,' muttered Dean uncomfortably.

'What about you? How'd you end up here?'

Dean sighed and dropped onto the bed, rubbing his raw wrists.

'Long story.'

'It's a long stay.'

Dean hesitated.

'Well…the short version is that someone wanted revenge on my father, for something that wasn't entirely his fault. There's a whole lot more to it, but that's the basic outline. I might tell you the rest some day.'

'That's terrible,' said BJ quietly, sinking onto his own bed. 'You're being punished for something you had no say in.'

'Yeah…but I don't really wanna talk about it,' said Dean. 'But I mean…wow. Being sold by an uncle? That's pretty insane.'

'Tell me about it.'

'So…can you give me the low-down on this place? What's the deal? All I got told was that I was apparently the best "purchase" he's ever made.'

'It's disgusting what he makes us do,' BJ began bitterly. 'We risk our lives to do things no smart human being would even try.'

'What kind of things?'

'He's trained us all. Then he sends us out to complete tasks; quests or missions you could call them. If you're under 15, you go with someone older. I'm yet to go out alone. But in my two years, I've only been on two quests,' BJ's voice faltered. 'The first time, I…I helped rob an old man. He was terrified. Thinking he only had seconds of life left. I had a gun pointed to his face…telling him that if he made a wrong move I'd end him; wipe him from the planet for good. I've never seen someone fear for themselves as much as he did. He kept asking me why we were doing such a thing…'

'I'm sorry,' Dean said sincerely. 'It sounds horrible…'

'You haven't heard the worst. That was _nothing _compared to the second time…last month it was. The quest, or mission, was to assassinate a man because he was too close to discovering Rennie's child slavery ring; too close to finding _us_…'

BJ's voice dropped off, and he choked back a small sob.

'So another boy and I went to his house; burst through his front door. And dude, this guy had _family_. He was sitting in his living room, laughing with his wife…with his little boy playing in front of him…and his baby girl cradled in his arms. Family. He knew who we were the second he saw us. He tried to rise; to convince us he could help us…but we didn't stop, we didn't think. We killed him. Before his family's very eyes. The baby girl crying from the noise, from the blood that splattered her as she lay in her dead father's arms, the wife screaming, the little boy running scared behind his mother…'

BJ shuddered as the memories flooded back to him, and he struggled to compose himself as silence fell between them.

'But it's part of the job,' he finally said. 'To save ourselves. A very selfish thing, really, but if we refuse, they don't kill us. They make the rest of our life as painful as possible; so painful you want to die. But they won't let you. So we do what we do, and get over it.'

'Why did you come back?' asked Dean incredulously. 'Come on…let's get serious. Why didn't you just leave and never return?'

'Escape isn't an option; you'll learn that soon enough,' said BJ bitterly. He stood from his bed, lifting the leg of his pants. A bright red swollen spot was situated above his ankle.

'They put trackers in us. Those guards are the best hunters money can buy. They're always watching you, whether it be in here or on a quest, and they always know where you are. You can never hide from them, or run from them. For all you know they have a sniper rifle on you the entire time, their fingers itching to go off the second you do something wrong. One of the guys here ran for it once, and an hour later he was back here – with a hole between his eyes.'

'So…there's no way out?'

'Unless you can get the tracker out, which is virtually impossible, the only way out of here is if you're dead or in jail. Like I said; impossible.'

'Nothing's impossible,' Dean said sharply.

'Whatever dude,' shrugged BJ, lying on his bed and rolling to face his brick wall. 'If you find a way to get out, wake me up and let me know.'

Silence drifted into the room, disturbed only by BJ's gentle breathing as he fell asleep.

Dean settled more comfortably, savouring the soft mattress beneath him. This guy sure knew how to take care of his prisoners! His eyes began to droop as his head sank deeper into the pillow, and all the sleep he'd lost caught up with him, his exhausted body relaxing and drifting off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! I'm back for another round. First off, i'd like to apologise profusely for the delay on this chapter - I've had an extremely rough week, and havent felt up to writing. Also, was being a bum and wouldn't let me log on, which drove me INSANE. But it's all good, coz i'm here now :)**

**Thanks to Lilithxfic, adder574, tvbatina, sammygirl1963, TeacherTam and heather03nmg for your chapter 6 reviews! I hope you all got my reply.**

**So, here it is. Chapter 7. Please enjoy, and review as always! That includes you lurkers.**

**Nikki**

**Chapter 7**

Sam was out of bed the second the sun began to rise. He was ready to start looking for Dean; he was _raring _to go. It was all he could do not to run out to the Impala and begin the search himself. But he restrained himself from this desire, pacing furiously as he waited for his father to wake up from this rare sleep in.

John awoke to the sound of someone going up and back, up and back across the motel floor.

'Sam,' he moaned, not looking up. 'Stop, please.'

Sam rushed to his father's side.

'Dad! Get up! We have to go look for Dean!'

John winced, clutching his shoulder as he sat up.

'Get me some painkillers,' he said through gritted teeth. Sam paused, ready to fly at his father for not caring about finding Dean, but instead cried out in frustration as he stormed off to the medicine cabinet.

'Can we go yet?' he asked when he returned. 'We have to start looking for him!'

'We're not looking for him Sam,' sighed John, ready for the yelling match to begin.

'WHAT?' yelled Sam incredulously. 'What do you mean we're not looking for him?'

'You didn't let me finish,' said John, his voice raised and dripping with annoyance. 'I was saying we can't look for him _yet_.'

'Why not! Dean is in the hands of a maniac; we have to look for him NOW.'

'Alright Sam, we'll go look for him. You lead the way. I'm assuming, of course, you know where he is,' said John sarcastically, staring expectantly at his son. 'Well? Where to first?'

Sam glared at him, his lip trembling, his eyes threatening to release a fountain of liquid from hiding.

'I don't know! But that doesn't stop us looking!'

'It does Sam.'

Sam was obviously distressed, his eyes pleading with his father, his mind not thinking straight in his frantic state.

'I need him dad…' And this time the tears fell, fast and steadily down his cheeks, until they dripped onto the floor.

'The let's do this right,' soothed John, motioning for Sam to sit on the bed beside him. He looked into his puffy bloodshot eyes, and ruffled his hair in comfort. 'We'll find him, no problem. I promise. Now let me have a shower, and then we can start research on Rennie, ok Sammy?'

Sam nodded reluctantly, and watched his father go into the bathroom. He sighed and lay back on the bed, staring at the murky ceiling, composing himself, resting his tired eyes.

And that's where John found him 10 minutes later. Not wanting to disturb him, he fixed himself a coffee, watching his little boy in quiet though as he drank. He'd never really realised how close his boys were. What kind of father was he? It was his fault for leaving them alone. He shouldn't have gone on the hunt. But that was in the past, and this was now. He savoured the warm coffee in his hands, and hoped to god that Dean was ok. He'd never forgive himself if he got hurt. Never.

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'Rise and shine sleeping beauty!' sang Rennie, entering Dean's cell. The light from the hallway flooded his dark room, blinding Dean as he squinted up at his "owner".

'Bite me,' he mumbled sleepily, rolling over to face the wall and shutting his eyes.

'Come on Dean, I'm being reasonable,' said Rennie. 'Don't make me use force. Get up; we have things to do before breakfast.'

Dean responded with the one finger salute.

'Don't say I didn't warn you,' Rennie said lightly. Two of his goons entered, one grabbing a handful of Dean's longish hair, the other gaining a firm grip on his arm. Dean cried out in pain as they dragged him from the bed, and held him immobile between them, facing Rennie.

'Lesson number one: Do as I tell you, or I will make you do it. I ask you to jump, you ask me how high.'

Dean gritted his teeth, his stubborn gaze never leaving Rennie's.

'Bring him.'

He stalked off, down the hall to the door as the end, Dean being muscled along behind him. The next room looked to be a giant dining room. A single, long wooden table stretched the entire length of the medium sized room, and there were a few doors situated around the walls, leading off deeper into the underground, to other living destinations Dean presumed. Dean was pushed through one of these doors, and a bright room greeted him. The walls were painted nicely, and it had an air of elegance to it, marred though by the blood stains that were splattered on the concrete floor.

'Oh don't fret about that,' laughed Rennie, noticing Dean's nervous look at the floor. 'This room has many purposes, and the one you're in here for doesn't involve blood. Well, maybe a little.'

Dean was forced into a wooden chair, and held tightly in place as Rennie worked at a bench that was in the corner, preparing. When he turned around, in his hands he held in his hands what looked to be a gun, but where the nozzle normally was, a long and slightly thick needle jutted out, ready to puncture any skin that it was pressed upon. Dean knew immediately what it was for.

'You aren't putting that in me,' he protested, flexing in vain against the guards. As Rennie came closer, he thrashed his legs around, making it difficult for Rennie to get a hold of one and insert the tracker.

'The more you struggle…the more it will hurt!'

'I don't care! You are NOT putting that thing in me!'

'Fine then,' huffed Rennie, sitting back on his heels. 'Strap him down.'

Dean had barely registered what was being said before he found his wrists being snugly bound to the arms of the chair. A rope was tightened around his chest, and his ankles bound to the legs of the chair, effectively immobilizing him. Rennie smiled maliciously at the helpless boy as he jabbed the needle deep into the side of his leg, above his ankle. Blood trickled from the edges of the wound as Dean hissed in pain. The hiss turned into a cry of agony however, as Rennie pulled the trigger, shooting the miniscule tracker down through the needle and deep into his leg. More blood squirted from the whole as the needle was removed, running thinly down his leg and landing with a plop on the stained concrete.

'See? That wasn't so bad,' mocked Rennie, smiling in delight as Dean gasped at the pain shooting up his leg. 'The pain will go away in an hour or so.'

He watched in silence as Dean was released from the chair.

'Go have a shower. The shower room is on the left side of the eating hall. And when you're done, put these on.'

Rennie threw him a pair of grey pants and a white t-shirt.

'What; no underwear?' smirked Dean.

'In the cupboard in the shower room. And in the draw beneath your bed,' shot back Rennie. 'And put your clothes in the wash basket; you need them for when you…go out.'

Rubbing his sore leg and giving Rennie and the guard's one last glare, Dean tenderly walked out of the room to the shower block. God he hoped they had cubicles.

Ten minutes later Dean shuffled out of the shower block, which had thankfully had had cubicles, feeling refreshed and clean. The throbbing in his leg had lessened, but was still slightly tender. No one else had been in the block apart from him, and when he emerged, he saw why.

The once empty table was filled with food, the seats holding a group of about 15 boys, all different sizes. Some looked up at Dean curiously, but not too surprised that another new boy had joined them. Dean was vastly astounded by the layout of food, and as he walked slowly down the side, he spotted BJ, gladly sliding beside him, away from the sideways glances and stares.

'Dig in Dean,' mumbled BJ through a mouthful of food. 'I gotta say, the food makes up for the rest of this dump.'

He watched hesitantly as BJ piled a heap of toast on a plate and pushed it toward him.

'I'm not hungry,' said Dean faintly, staring at the food. Truth was, his stomach was as empty as hell, and it was all he could do to not reach out and swallow the toast in one go.

'Mate, you have to eat!' exclaimed BJ. 'I bet you haven't eaten in days, and you'll need the strength to get through training.;

'Training?' quizzed Dean.

'Well, since you're new, they'll put your through tests to determine your skill level. You'll probably spend a month training for he sends you out on a mission.'

'Only a month?' asked Dean. 'You told me you've only been on two missions since you got here; surely he would've made you train for longer than a month.'

'But that's me. This is you we're talking about,' replied BJ through another mouthful of food. 'I could hear the excitement in his voice…he won't train you very long. He already thinks you're capable of going out to do one of his deeds. I've never seen him this excited in my entire stay. You're something special, and he won't waste you by training you for months and months on end.'

'If he thinks he can train me, he better think again,' scoffed Dean.

'Look,' said BJ seriously. 'I'm not forcing you to do anything, but I'm warning you, and you really should listen. This guy does anything to make you obey him. He will keep going and going until you literally fall down dead at his feet.'

'Whatever,' shrugged Dean. 'Right now, dead looks a whole lot better than staying here the rest of my life.'

They dropped into silence, Dean giving into his growling stomach by downing two pieces of toast and a glass of juice. Slowly the room began to thin out, some boys going back to their rooms, some heading to the showers, and others through a door Dean had yet to see.

'Where are they going?'

'To the gym,' replied BJ. 'Like I said, we have to stay fit, or we'll be killed when doing his dirty business. We go on very dangerous missions, following very dangerous people. None of us want to die, so we stay fit and do as we're told. You'll understand soon.'

BJ stood up, giving Dean a pitiful look, and headed to the showers. Dean remained in his seat, absorbing al the information BJ had told him since his arrival. This Rennie guy was nut!

'Boss wants to see you,' boomed a guard behind him, gripping his shoulder and dragging him from the wooden bench. 'Your training starts today.'

Dean was propelled toward the door, surprised at the gym laid out before him. It had everything from a boxing ring to the standard fitness machines. Obviously Rennie had put a lot of thought into this child slavery business, and Dean spotted him, standing in the middle of it all, watching his subjects work out to their hearts content.

'Dean!' he welcomed. 'I hope you're ready for this. I'm wishing to see what you're capable of.'

'You tell me to shower to get clean, and now you want me to sweat all over?' retorted Dean. 'I'll pass. Plus, there's this horrible pain in my ankle, but I wouldn't have the slightest clue of what's causing it.'

'Get in the ring,' hissed Rennie, shoving him toward the boxing ring, his cool composure gone.

Dean silently ducked the ropes, finding himself face to face with another boy his age and size.

'Fight him,' ordered Rennie to the other boy.

'Whoa, wait a second,' protested Dean as he ducked a punch. 'I don't want to fight you!'

'Go on Dean, show us what you're made of!'

'I won't fight you!' Dean said firmly, dodging another blow. 'Just chill man!'

He ducked yet another blow.

'Come on Brett, hit him!' encouraged Rennie from the sidelines.

Dean glanced at him in disgust, and Brett took his chance, clobbering Dean across the face. Everything froze. A crowd of curious onlookers all waited in anticipation as Dean wiped a trickle of blood from his face.

'Now you've just made me mad,' snarled Dean, tackling Brett to the ground.

The onlookers cheered rowdily, egging on the other boy, while Dean blocked another blow, throwing his own at the boy beneath him, who in turn flipped Dean off him. They both scrambled to their feet, waiting for the other to make a move. It was Brett who made one first, his fist flying inches above Dean's head. He never saw Dean's fist coming from the side, and he crumpled to the ground unconscious the second the blow made contact. Blood began to run more steadily from dean's split lip as he studied the unmoving form. Slow clapping interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to face Rennie, his face a defiant glare.

'Very good Dean; much better than I anticipated. And more fitter, too.'

'I will have no part in your charade' Dean replied coldly, checking Brett's pulse. Satisfied he'd done no permanent harm, Dean strode angrily from the room, well aware of the curious stares he received from the other teens.

'Yes…you're much, much better than I thought you'd be,' Rennie mused quietly to himself, a sadistic smile playing across his crooked lips. He turned to one of his henchmen.

'I want him to do a job for me in two days time. Make sure he's ready.'


	8. Chapter 8

**I guess i should start with this - SORRY!!!! My computer was taken away, i lost my muse, i ran out of time - yes, they are excuses, but i really mean it when i say sorry for the delay!!! I'm sure some of you understand what it's like.**

**I'd like to point out it's midnight here, i finished this about ten minutes ago, and i couldnt bear to go to sleep and let you guys wait until tomorrow afternoon, so i jumped on to post. I hope you like it, and i apologise if it's really bad! Forgive me!**

**Lollipops to all.**

**Nikki xx**

**Chapter 8**

'Sam? Come on Sam, time to get up,' said John quietly, gently nudging his sleeping son.

Sam's eyes fluttered open, and he tiredly rubbed his eyes.

'Come on Sammy, we're going to the library to research.'

Sam just nodded silently as he sat up, still too tired for words to form. He quietly followed his father outside to his truck, the cold crisp air a fresh welcome to his still sleeping senses. Gavin and Tom were already waiting.

'You right to go?' Tom asked John.

Tom's appearance had dramatically changed overnight. His pale face had received more colour, he'd given himself a haircut, and his eyes had softened, no longer being stone cold. The only thing remaining was the aged and pained look that still shone darkly in his facial features.

'I'm ready,' replied John. 'You look better by the way,' he commented to Tom as they climbed into the truck.

* * *

The local library was a small brick building, and once inside, they discovered only a single computer for them to research on. This didn't deter them, and Sam took charge, searching for any articles related to Rennie.

There was only one: **Man Donates Millions to Local Charities.**

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust.

'What a suck up! He probably only did it to cover his tracks.'

'That doesn't help us…try searching for any articles about missing kids,' ordered John.

They spent hours pouring over articles, hoping that they'd find something; anything. It didn't take long to hit a dead end.

'What a waste of time,' sighed Gavin. 'Dad – are u sure you don't know anything else about him?'

'I'm sure,' replied Tom dully. 'An associate of mine contacted him and set up the meeting. From there on, Rennie contacted me. Number was untraceable.'

John rubbed his temples, frustrated.

'Did you find what you were looking for?' the elderly librarian asked, coming up behind them. 'I'm afraid there's not a lot of the computer; we don't always have time to get articles up. And it's so expensive.'

'No, we didn't,' sighed John.

'Is there anything I can help you with?'

'Actually, maybe you can,' said Sam, bringing up the Rennie article again. 'Do you remember this?'

The librarian peered through her glasses, reading the headline and looking at the picture of Rennie.

'Of course I do! Who could forget such a kind act?' the old woman said. 'What a blessing to our community. He came all the way from the other side of Atlanta just to help out community out.'

'Wait…do you know where he lives?' ask be more asked Sam excitedly. 'I'm doing a school project on uh…influential people and I would love to get a chance to talk to him!'

'I'm sorry dear; I only have a vague idea. He's in a small suburb just north of Atlanta. I'm sorry I cannot be more specific.'

She shuffled off, dusting the few books in the library as she went.

'Let's go Dad,' Sam said brightly, smiling at John, delight on his face. 'If we're lucky, we can have dean back by tonight!'

But John's face was grave.

'Sam, that area is huge. It could take us days; weeks to find the right one. And how are we supposed to get him out? What if he's not even there? Rennie could be holding him anywhere!'

'Why don't you have a little faith dad?' Sam said softly, looking up at his father. 'Everything is worth a try.' He gave a cheeky smile. 'Besides; how many mansions could possibly be in that area?'

_

* * *

_

_1 day later_

'No! Please don't make me go! I'm not ready! PLEASE!'

The young boy's desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. The guards gripped his arms, dragging the crying and pleading teen behind them, past all the cells, towards the stairs that lead to ground level.

Dean curiously watched through the bars on his cell door as the commotion reached him. His face remained blank as his eyes followed the plight of the boy; a teen no older than 14.

'I don't want to go!' The boy continued to plead, sobbing loudly. 'Please, I'm not ready.'

His head drooped as he continued to sob, disappearing from Dean's view up the stairs.

From the other end of the hall, another guard appeared, this time with an 18 year old marching steadily before him. His face was worn, and his eyes seemed to look past everything; they were empty, lifeless…dark. He was a survivor of the years, but as Dean watched him walk past so willingly, knowing what was coming, Dean couldn't help but wonder if it were really worth it. Was it worth staying alive if it meant staying in this place? That teen had grown into a man in this place, and would never adapt to the real world. He was too far gone; forced against his will to obey and serve. He could never be saved.

'That won't happen to me,' Dean whispered to himself, trying to soothe the sickening feeling that ran through him so menacingly. He pushed away from the door, collapsing tiredly onto his bed.

'Don't be too sure about that,' said BJ. 'You can call me a pessimist, but there is no humane way of getting out of here. Your best chance is in handcuffs heading for the cop shop, or in a coffin. Your pick.'

'What makes you so sure of that?' scoffed Dean. 'My family are good at what they do. They'll find me.'

'I may not know your family, but I know Rennie. The last thing he's gunna do is let his prized possession be yanked out from beneath him.'

Dean stayed silent, not bothering with a response. He was emotionally tired. All he'd done in the past few days was fight against Rennie; he had refused to train and had barely left his room, which had pissed Rennie off to no end.

If only Sam had been around to hear some of the wisecracks he'd made….Sam. Dean's heart ached at the thought of his younger sibling. Where was his little Sammy? The baby brother he had always sworn to protect…was he even still alive?

'What's on your mind?' interrupted BJ, sitting up and looking at dean, concern marring his face.

'I'm just thinking about my brother,' sighed Dean.

'I didn't know you had a brother,' BJ said softly.

'Yeah…little ratbag. I basically raised him. My families had it tough…my mother died when I was young, my father changed…I was Sammy's only hope. So I looked after him. Didn't think I'm miss the runt this much.'

'You sound close. What's his name?'

Dean raised his eyes t meet BJ's, surprised at the genuine interest BJ showed.

'Sam…his name is Sam.'

* * *

They talked for hours, oblivious to the time that had passed. Dean has shared his life story to BJ – minus certain ghost hunting aspects of it – and had talked excitedly about Sam non-stop the majority of the time. BJ didn't miss a single word, he asked questions and he chatted back as much as Dean talked. When Dean had finished, they swapped roles, Dean listening in fascination to the story of a normal life, with a normal family, something he had never gotten the chance to experience. He'd never really thought about how different his life was from a vast majority of the population until now.

'Thanks BJ…for talking to me. I feel so much better being able to talk about my thoughts to you…you really helped. I appreciate it.'

'It's no prob-'

He was cut off by a loud buzz as all the cell doors opened.

'What's going on? It's not breakfast time yet.'

They both stood cautiously at the edge of their doors, swapping confused looks with the other teens, who had also appeared in the hall to see what was going on. They didn't have to a\wait long to find out.

The door leading to ground level opened, and Rennie stepped through. He didn't look happy.

'Listen to me, you no good rats,' he spat. 'Tonight's events are unfortunate but necessary. I want you to all take note of exactly what happens if you disobey me!'

He began walking slowly down the hall, his piercing eyes making contact with each and every teen. Behind him, two guards followed, a stretcher balanced between them. Dean's mouth went instantly dry, and his heart plummeted. The begging, pleading, sobbing 14 year old boy from earlier that night lay upon the stretcher, his eyes blank; dead, and staring straight up, blind. He had a clean hole between his eyes.

The bile rose in Dean's throat as the stretcher continued past him, and as his attention was drawn to the bullet holes and bloodstains that marred the child's body. A child.

Clapping his hand over his mouth, Dean rushed into his cell, dispelling the meagre contents of his stomach into the toilet. As he sat panting on the ground, gulping in as much air as he could, Rennie's ominous words rang in his ears.

'_Take note of exactly what happens if you disobey me…'_

Dean visibly flinched as the words played over in his mind, over and over again, and the images flashed before him. A child, the hole between his eyes, the blood…god, there had been so much blood! The empty look of yet another young life destroyed. Again he leaned over the toilet, unable to keep his stomach contents contained.

A gentle hand rubbing his back brought him back from the dizzy spell, and he looked up quickly into BJ's sympathetic and worried eyes. No words needed to be said; BJ knew. He understood.

'What…what happened to the other boy?' Dean asked hoarsely.

'Captured,' BJ replied sadly. 'He'll probably rot in prison the rest of his life…'

Dean said nothing, opting to climb into his warm bed and pull the covers tight around him. He faced the wall as BJ sighed and moved off to his own bed. The lights dimmed, the cell doors shut, and Dean was left in the dark with his thoughts lingering around him, and haunting him. There was only one thought on his mind, and that was survival. He had to survive, and he'd make sure of it.

* * *

Sweat poured down his body, glistening brightly in the small amount of sun that snuck through the small cracks in the roof. His singlet clung tight to his rippled chest as he re-adjusted his gloves and continued to pound the boxing bag. After repeating the sequence, Dean stopped, panting and wiping the sweat from his face. He ducked out of the boxing ring; feeling refreshed from the much needed workout, and steadily drank from the water tap in the corner of the room, splashing the cool liquid onto his heaving body. Satisfied he'd done enough exercise to make up for the last few days, he began to walk laps of the gym in an attempt to cool down. It was still early morning, and he was the first one up, which hadn't bothered him at all. He liked the privacy.

'Why, good morning Dean!' rang out Rennie's voice.

'_So much for privacy,' _thought Dean, rolling his eyes to face his owner. 'What do you want?'

'Oh, nothing. I was just wandering past and saw that my favourite…purchase wasn't in his cell. Looks like you've been working hard.'

Dean glanced down at his sweat soaked body.

'You could say that.'

'I'm glad you're finally deciding to co-operate,' said Rennie, moving closer to Dean. 'I just thought I'd let you know; I hope you didn't push yourself too hard. Tonight – your first mission. Be prepared.'

Rennie winked at him, before turning on his heel and leaving a stunned Dean behind him.

'But I haven't been here long enough…' Dean's voice echoed to no-one as he weakly tried to make an excuse. Why was Rennie sending him out so quickly? Surely he knew Dean wasn't obeying his crap – why would he risk it?

As more of the teens filed into the gym for their daily session, Dean brushed past them all and headed off to find BJ.

'BJ!' he called out when he reached his room. 'Rennie's sending me out – tonight.'

BJ sat up quickly in his bed, and his eyes widened in surprise at Dean.

'Seriously? You've been here the better part of two days, and your already being sent out?'

'That's what he told me,' said Dean, worried. 'I was hoping I could stall it til I found a way out of here! I thought you said he wouldn't use me for months?'

'That's how it usually works,' replied BJ, worry also crossing his face. 'This is bad…no way is he going to send you out alone either. I hope he doesn't ask me to. I haven't been feeling well.'

Dean buried his head into his hands, cringing at the situation he was about to be put into.

'It'll be ok Dean – I saw you fighting Brett the other day. Brett's our best fighter; well he was until you got here. There's no way anything can go wrong when you're out there, as long as you don't disobey Rennie.'

'Yeah…I guess,' muttered Dean, and headed slowly for the showers.


	9. Chapter 9

**Well, uh...got no excuses really. I haven't gotten around to writing lately, but have no fear! I've put something together for you. Sorry if it's a bit rough, and if there's spelling errors, blame my spellcheck, which doesnt seem to be working.**

**I really hope it's not that bad, and makes sense. Again, apologies for the massive wait.**

**Thanks to magnificent7, sammygirl1963 and lilithxfic for reviewing chapter 8.**

**and when your done - feel free to press the little purplke button and leave me some feedback!**

**Nikki xx**

****

**Chapter 9**

The day passed quicker than Dean hoped it would. He spent the majority of the time on his bed, pondering over the looming challenge. After eating a meagre dinner, he strolled slowly back to his cell, pausing in the doorway, dismayed, when he saw his street clothes neatly folded on his bed. This was it. He quickly changed, savouring the feeling of being in his normal ripped jeans, scuffed boots, old t-shirt and jacket that he wore most days. He glanced up, startled, as BJ appeared at his door. It took him a moment to realise that BJ was dressed in street clothes.

'I guess we're going out together...' said Dean, giving a wry smile.

'Yeah,' sighed BJ. 'This won't be fun. But since it's your first time, it should be a fairly easy job.'

'You ready?' asked a guard, entering the cell.

Both boys took a deep breath.

'Yeah, we're ready,' BJ said coldly.

'After you,' said the guard.

Dean led, walking out of the cell and up the narrow stairs to ground level. Another guard stood at the hatch's entrance, and he gripped Dean's arm as he ascended the stairs. Marching quickly, both boys were lead out to the waiting black van, where Rennie stood, a gleam in his eyes.

'You better make me proud boy,' Rennie hissed to Dean. 'I paid good money for you, and I've got high expectations.'

'Do I look like Batman to you?' scoffed Dean, climbing into the van, BJ on his heels.

The windows were blackened, so they didn't know where they were going. The trip to their destination was quiet, the tension so tight you could cut it with a knife.

'What's our assignment?' queried BJ.

'Robbery. A man has recently come across a priceless amulet in Egypt, and brought it home a couple of days ago. All I want is for you to retreive it for me.'

'What about the man?' BJ continued, his face blank.

'Do what you like. If you need to kill him, kill him. If there's family, you can kill them too. Or, you can find your way around it, and be in and out without anyone noticing. Just get me my amulet!'

BJ nodded affirmative as the van slowly pulled up.

'Now remember – don't screw with me,' snarled Rennie. 'I've already lost two of my collection this week, and I don't intend on losing any more. Got it? Now go. The address is 213 Wyndam Street, which is a couple of blocks from here. We'll be watching...so don't screw up!' He handed them both small handguns, and indicated for them to leave.

The van door was opened, and BJ and Dean jumped out, heading at a fast pace into the fresh night, away from Rennie. Once they were around a corner, Dean visably relaxed.

'I can't stand him,' he muttered bitterly.

'I know Dean,' replied BJ. 'So, what's the plan?'

'What do you normally do?'

'Well, these jobs usually need to be done so fast that we kinda just barge in and do what we gotta do,' shrugged BJ.

'That can be plan B,' said Dean nervously. 'I say we check out the joint, see what points of entry there are, and go from there.'

They continued walking at a good pace, and BJ noticed Dean looking around at the surrounding streets cautiously, his face intense and in thought.

'Dean – don't even consider it. You can't hide. There's no escape, and if you try anything, we're _both _dead.'

'But it can't be impossible! Nothing's impossible.'

'Well, this is. Let's just get this over with.'

They arrived at Wyndam Street, and walked casually past their target, noticing the uncut grass and rundown look the house had.

'Sure doesn't look like the kind of house I'd be living in if i owned a priceless object,' BJ murmured to Dean.

'Maybe it's like that so people won't think of robbing it,' was Dean's reply. 'It's still a pretty big house though. Who knows what it could look like inside.'

'So what are we doing?'

'I say side window, if any are open. If not, we'll have to sneak through the back, and see if anyone's around.'

They backtracked to the house, walking cautiously through the over-grown grass, keeping their eyes peeled for movement. They made it safely to the side of the house, peering in windows, but unable to see anything past the closed curtains. All windows were firmly locked as well.

'Let's try the back then,' sighed Dean. Moving around to the back door, he gently turned the handle, not surprised when it didn't budge.

'Desperate times equal desperate measures,' he said sadly to BJ, pulling out his gun. 'Stand back, and get ready to cover me.'

Taking a deep breath, Dean stepped up to the door, and in one swift kick, broke one of the wooden panels on the door. He quickly reached in, unlocking the door and letting himself in, gun poised. He listened carefully, hearing a door slam in the darkened house.

'He's hiding,' whispered Dean to BJ. 'Keep an eye out when opening doors; he could jump you.'

'I know Dean – I've done this before, remember?'

They carefully crept their way through the house, noticing that Dean had been right – the house was fully furnished, and even in the dark, they could tell it was sophisticated. After looking in each room, it became clear that the person and the amulet were hiding.

'There's only one place left,' commented BJ. 'The basement.'

They both stared uneasily at the basement door, mentally going over the best way to approach their problem.

'Well,' said Dean, shrugging. 'I say we kick the bastard in.'

'Sounds good to me,' said BJ, covering Dean with his gun.

For the second time that night, Dean mustered all his strength, kicking the door as hard as possible. It flung open, and Dean surged through, gun aimed, making his way down the rickety stairs. BJ was close behind.  
'Freeze!' cried Dean, his eyes falling on their prey. The man froze, his eyes fixated to the gun, his phone pressed to his ear.

'Hang up,' ordered Dean.

'Please don't hurt -'

'HANG UP!'

The phone snapped shut immediately, and clattered to the floor.

'BJ, search him.'

BJ moved forward, beginning to pat the man down while Dean covered him with the gun. His gaze remained steady, his aim perfectly still in the air.

'I got it!' cried BJ, pulling the amulet from the man's pocket.

'Good!' said Dean. 'Lets scram-'

The sound of screeching tires and a siren alerted their ears.

'Oh shit,' yelled BJ. 'It's the cops!'

'Go BJ, get upstairs,' ordered Dean. BJ handed Dean the amulet, before bounding up the stairs.

"P-p-please don't kill me,' begged the man. 'Please.'

"It's your lucky day,' muttered Dean, backing up the stairs quickly. He slammed the basement door shut, jamming a chair beneath the handle.

'What's the situation BJ?' asked Dean, looking out the front window.

'It's not bad, but not good. There's two of em, but god knows how many more are on their way.'

'I say we get outta here before we find out!' exclaimed Dean.

Guns still at the ready, the boys hurridly exited the house, sprinting across the backyard to the fence. A lone police officer appeared in the backyard, his cries of 'freeze' ignored.

Dean and BJ clambered over the fence, sprinting down the back alleyway, the cop hot on their heels and calling for backup. The cop knew he wouldn't catch them, so he slowed down, shooting repeatedly at the two teens.

'Get behind the dumpster!' called out Dean, diving for cover. They crouched behind the metal bin, Dean occasionally firing back at the cop.

'BJ – go. Go find Rennie. I'll cover you, and I'll be right behind you.'

'What? No Dean, we go together.'

'BJ! You need to go NOW while there's only one cop here! Anymore get here, and we're as good as dead. We don't know how many more they've called as backup.'

BJ glanced at Dean, concerned, but nodded his head.

'Ok. Good luck.'

Their eyes connected briefly, before BJ took off at full speed for the other end of the alley, Dean continuing to fire at the cop. He glanced around the bin, seeing that the cop had paused to reload his weapon, and a cry reached his ears. He turned quickly, to see BJ running back towards him.

'Look out Dean! There's another co-'

Bang. Dean's eyes widened, a strangled cry erupting from his mouth as BJ jerked and skidded to the ground. Another cop stood at the end of the alley, his gun smoking, his face blank.

'NOOOO!' screamed Dean, running into the open toward BJ.

'FREEZE!' came the command.

But Dean wasn't listening. He had to get to BJ. More gunshot was fired, but each miraculously passed Dean as he stumbled to the ground beside his cell mate.

'Oh god, BJ, oh god,' he sobbed, turning his only friend over.

BJ looked up at him, his eyes soft. The bullet had hit him in the back of the neck, and shot clean through, and as he lay in front of Dean, dying, his sobs were choked as blood flooded his throat and mouth.

'I'm so sorry, this is all my fault,' whispered Dean, cradling BJ.

'Not...your fault,' BJ managed.

'FREEZE! WE DO NOT WANT TO SHOOT!' commanded one of the officers. 'If you move away, we can get help for your friend!'

'Dean,' choked BJ. 'Get...out of...there. Away...from Rennie. Get. Out.'

'Rennie won't get me; the cops are here,' said Dean, worry etched on his face.

'He'll...get...you back. Guaran...teed.'

Dean looked up, noticing the two cops had creeped closer on either side of him. Glancing at BJ, he got to his feet, looking between each cop.

'Put the gun down son,' he was ordered, 'and get to your knees with your hands on your head.'

Dean didn't hesitate, clicking the safety onto his gun and tossing it near the dumpster.

"So uh...just the two of you tonight?' he asked thoughtfully.

'At this moment, yes, but backups on the way. Get on your knees!'

Dean sighed, getting tenderly to his knees, his hands laced together on his head. The cops approached cautiously, wrenching his arms behind him and cuffing them firmly together. But as he was dragged to his feet, one cop jerked and sagged to the ground, unmoving, a pool of blood forming around his torso. Dean hadn't even heard the gunshot, but he knew it was Rennie's men, and that they probably had silencers on their weapons. The other cop tensed instantly, his grip ferocious on Dean's arm, his other hand rested on his gun.

'If I were you, I'd leave,' said Dean seriously. 'You don't wanna mess with these guys. They _will _kill you.'

The cop looked at Dean nervously, then to his dead partner on the ground. He gulped, backing up slowly, dragging Dean with him. Sirens sounded in the far distance, and the cop relaxed slightly.

'No – they won't. My backup is here. Everything will be fine. Absolutly fine.'

Another shot was fired, and Dean thought he heard the muffled 'ping' of a gun going off. The cop crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from the wound the was directly over his heart. Dean licked his dry lips, focusing his attention back to BJ, who was still struggling with life, drifting slowly towards unconsciousness, and death. At that moment, Rennie's van screeched into the ally, the van door shooting open.

'Hey buddy, it's gunna be alright,' soothed Dean. 'Rennie's here; they'll fix you.'

BJ's eyes widened with terror.

'N...N...N...O,' he choked. 'Don't...let him..take me...'

Dean felt himself seized and dragged toward the van.

'Rennie! Get BJ! He's still alive! Quick get him before more cops arrived!'

Rennie stepped calmly from the van, his fingers fondling his gun softly. His goons continued to drag Dean to the vehicle, while Rennie stood over BJ. His face blank, he pointed his gun, and clicked off the safety.

'RENNIE! NO!' cried out Dean. 'He can be saved! Son of a bitch – SAVE HIM!'

The gun fired.


End file.
